


Pain is Temporary

by SerenityStarbuck



Series: Die Standing [1]
Category: Warhammer - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:37:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1605443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenityStarbuck/pseuds/SerenityStarbuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beginnings of my series all about the Imperial Guard.<br/>This one is going to highlight the 13th Serrathite Armored Regiment and their Commissar, Kassandra Tinral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pain is Temporary

“Ma’am, we have been waiting for almost five months to get to Hythrik. The troops are understandably restless at the prospect of spending another three months on this boat without feeling the mud under their treads.” The Captain said. He was a very tall and handsome man, soft, kind, intelligent. The Commissar sometimes wondered how he was given command of an Imperial Guard Company, and then she remembered reading his personnel file.

 

“I understand Captain Jorel but the Warmaster has diverted us to Arcalin which unfortunately, is another three months away. And while I am sympathetic to your dislike at not having earth, mud and xenos blood under your treads and boots, you’d do well to be more respectful of the ship that holds our lives in her hands. Think of her like a very large space tank Captain, you might feel more at home that way.” The Commissar ended with a smirk as the other officers sitting at the table laughed.

 

Captain Jorel snorted and laughed into his drink at the jab from their Commissar. They were all very lucky to have a member of the Commissariat like Commissar Tinral; she really understood the essence of the Serrathites. “I’ll be sure to tell the men that ma’am.” He said chuckling.

 

“As for morale, I will see what I can do about some vehicle maneuvers. Until then however, increase cross-company drills with friendly competition and lets find a way for some of that confiscated liquor to trickle back in the ranks slowly. “ Commissar Tinral said. The other regimental officers eating their dinner nodded slowly in agreement as she went on. “But at the first sign of infighting or delinquency, punishment will be swift, severe and all contraband will be confiscated immediately. Please make this very evident to your junior officers gentlemen.” A chorus of polite “aye ma’am’s” confirmed her orders were heard and understood by all parties.

 

“We should expect more information regarding the situation on Arcalin to come in over the next month. The Warmaster was very adamant that the details were to be kept as quiet as possible. You will all be informed of new developments on a need to know basis.” She said as she sat down in front of her untouched plate and looked to Colonel Marbik.

 

“Thank you Kassandra, I think you have covered everything required for this evening as always. Once again rendering me nothing more than a pretty statue.” The Colonel joked as the officers laughed. “I don’t know about “pretty” Harris!” Major Caplan quipped, getting a second and louder round laughter to erupt from the table of officers.

 

The night wound down from there with the 13th Serrathite Command Staff trickling out of the board room and off to their quarters or postings. Commissar Tinral was the last to leave after finishing her second scotch and chatting with the company commanders as individually as possible. Being the single Commissar for 3,000 men isn’t an easy assignment and it required Kas to be constantly vigilant, visible and damn good at what she did. But the Commissariat knew that when they assigned her to the largest of the Serrathite armored regiments and she was more than willing to face every challenge thrown at her.

 

Before retiring to her quarters for a few hours rest, Kas decided that she would visit the barracks to personally view the state of morale. As she walked through the corridors she removed one of her black gloves and touched the bulkhead lazily as a child might when playing.  After about ten minutes she came to a window as tall as the deck itself and just as wide. This area wasn’t meant for observation she surmised, because there were no benches or chairs, so Kas stood as close to the glass as possible resting her still ungloved hand on it. 

\---------------

As she was watching the stars pass by the glass, 1st Company’s Watch Guardsman for the shift was observing her and not the corridor, as was his assignment. Sergeant Mbrel was patrolling when he noticed the Commissar standing with one ungloved hand on the glass window. His first instinct was to leave and give her some privacy, whatever this moment was to her, it definitely seemed private. But there was something in the way the ships dimmed lighting touched her face, the way the stars shone in her eyes, the way her warm breathe danced on the frigid glass. It all just made his heart stop.

 

“Her fingers” he thought, “I’ve never seen them without gloves on. They look so pale and small compared to the bolt pistol she carries. How could she have possibly beat a man to death with those hands?” remembering the story his CO had told him after Commissar Tinral was assigned to their regiment. “I’d really like to feel how soft they are…” the Sergeant shook he head silently “No. Stop it Danith. That is your Commissar, and she can kill you without batting an eye if she wanted too. Don’t.Even.Think.About.It” he yelled at him self internally.

 

But he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. The way her great coat had the red lining that accented the red sash at her hips, much more subtle and refined than other Commissars he had seen. Her undercoat was cut a bit lower than the standard issue for the Commissariat, and showed off her ample cleavage and the markings of her homeworld(at least that’s what the rumors said the tattoos were). The black combat trousers were formfitting to say the least, highlighting the curve of her muscular ass and thighs all the way down to her knee-high leather combat boots. If she wasn’t deadly looking enough, the symbol of the Commissariat would remind you just how close to death you were. The black and red cap with a gold embossed human skull and angel wings, the same symbol as the one on her power sword and bolt pistol. Dangerous, deadly, sexy; all of those were accurate descriptors for Commissar Kassandra Tinral.  

 

The Sergeant realized that Commissar Tinral was putting her glove back on and looked at the time to see how long he had been admiring her. Just his luck, he was 15 minutes late for shift change and by the looks of it the Commissar was on her way towards the watch station. He was so screwed.

 

Sergeant Dan Mbrel started walking briskly towards 1st Company’s watch station, saluting Commissar Tinral as he passed her at the window adjusting her uniform. “Commissar” “Sergeant” was all that was said as he walked past the woman he had been lusting after a few moments ago. 

\---------------

Kas had seen the Sergeant ogling her about ten or so minutes before she decided to leave. Attention to detail is kind of in her job description as it were and even if it weren’t, tank jockeys and heavy infantry soldiers aren’t the best at sneaking around. She decided to follow him to the barracks area as stealthily as possible to see if he noticed, making a game out of it like she used to at the Schola.

 

Once they reached the door to the watch station Kas was only two meters behind the Sergeant and he showed no signs of noticing her presence. He opened the door and walked in as she counted to twenty and walked in after him.

 

The raised voices she had heard as she coming in through the doorway halted once the guardsmen realized who she was. Every one of them immediately snapped to attention and saluted her, dropping any work they had been doing before her entrance. “At ease boys.”  She smiled genuinely as she returned their salutes sharply. “I’m not here to punish anyone, just getting a feel for the morale of the troops and all that good Commissar type stuff. Unless you think punishment might help morale?” She said raising an eyebrow and smirking at the Sergeant who she followed, then to the most nervous looking guardsman in the room. “Ah well. It’s just an idea I suppose.” She sighed turning to the Watch Captain for the shift and ignoring the blush on every face in the room but hers. “What was the need for the raised voices when I walked in guardsman?” She asked simply with her normal slight authoritative tone.

 

“It was nothing really, Commissar Tinral. Just a misunderstanding about the shift period.” He said. “I see. Someone was late to their shift?” She asked. “Not exactly ma’am. The Sergeant was late returning from his shift and he forgot to call in. We were worried is all.” He replied, clearly trying to cover for his comrade. “Well, Sergeant… Mbrel.” She said looking at his nametag “How long was your shift today?” “Eight hours ma’am.” He replied hoping that she wouldn’t make him take another shift until he “learned” to be on time and call in. “For as long as I see fit this evening you will be my escort around the ship, aiding me in note taking, appointments, research or any other task I demand of you. If I do not release you until 0400 you must still attend 0430 drills. Is that understood Sergeant?” The Commissar said, her words booming with power and authority as her eyes bored into his own. “Yes ma’am!” Mbrel replied.

 

While he wasn’t exactly upset that he was getting to spend time with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, he was definitely nervous. As if being his attractive superior officer wasn’t bad enough, anyone who entered the sparring ring with her never came out standing. Then there was the story the Captain told him a few weeks ago. Apparently, one of the more arrogant Navy lightning pilots thought he stood a chance with the 13th Serrathite’s Commissar and put his hand on her in the Officer’s club. Jorel said that the Mechanicus ended up replacing his hand while his old one stayed pinned to bar top like a beetle in a glass case.

 

Yeah, this was way worse than the coming of age ball back home. Way fucking worse. By an exponential amount.


End file.
